The Lady and the Prisoner
by archersand
Summary: I thought Surreal was a good enough character that she deserved a story all of her own. And I always thought there was potential for there to be a rich and important history and culture for the Landen people, those who aren't Blood. So here is story that is those two things.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: the characters, places and some of the plot do not belong to me. Also, there may be some spoilers for The Dark Jewels Trilogy. It is my first story so stick with me while I figure it out. This story takes place shortly after Daemon thinks Luciver's died in Heir to the Shadows. While he is still living with Surreal and is in the Twisted Kingdom. **

Chapter 1

After weeks of being distant and vague, Daemon emerged from his room in the latest apartment Surreal had found for them looking nearly as calm and collected as he once had.

Like he had been before.

His golden eyes were clear and focused, his steps purpose-driven. Surreal looked up from the breakfast she'd been making them both.

"Daemon?" She tried not to sound as alarmed as she felt by this unexpected change in him. "Where are you going?

He looked up from tying his shoes and smiled. A real smile. "Little Surreal. It's been long enough, hasn't it? It's time for me to go."

"But where?" Surreal came around the counter and knelt in front of him, trying to help him stay in the present as much as possible.

"To see an old friend. Someone I'd forgotten about. He's the one who can help me."

Surreal pushed aside a jab of resentment. Wasn't helping him what she'd been doing? "Give me 5 minutes. I'll come with you."

To her surprise, Daemon shook his head and took her hands. "Not this time. You can't go where I'm going."

"Daemon, please," she made her voice young and helpless, "You're all I have."

For a second, it looked like he was going to say no and she didn't know what she could've done other than let him go. Even so far lost in the Twisted Kingdom, he was still 100 times stronger than her. Then he nodded and smiled again but this time it was a terribly sad smile, filled with something not unlike regret.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character, world, or plot created by the wonderful Anne Bishop. (do I have to do this at the beginning of each chapter? Ah well, can't hurt) Watch out for wild spoilers roaming free if you haven't read all the Black Jewels Trilogy. If you missed chapter 1 (somehow. Is that even possible?) we're at the point in ****Heir to the Shadow**** when Daemon is in the Twisted Kingdom and is still living with Surreal after Lucifer leaves. **

It took them most of the day to reach their destination. Surreal didn't know where they were going; Daemon wouldn't say. They rode the winds to the far north, near the Northern Gate but then began walking. By now they were far in the mountains, where only one weak providence queen ruled over mostly Landens who scratched a poor survival out of the mountain soil and raising tiny herds of sheep and goats. As they walked further into the woods, Surreal began to feel more and more afraid.

At first it was just slight trepidation that she explained away as nervousness over not knowing where they were going. But as the afternoon went one it could only be called fear. She could hear her heart pounding and her hands shook if she didn't make a constant effort to steady them.

The woods were completely silent. No small animals rustled in the trees, no birds sang.

"Daemon," she whispered into the stillness, "something feels wrong here."

"Yes," he agreed, looking back at her, "that mean we're getting close."

It was only shortly after that they came to the mouth of a cave. Here the fear Surreal felt was so strong she thought she'd be sick right there. Daemon turned to her.

"Surreal, you don't have to come any farther. You can go back now." And she saw that he was scared too, though he was hiding it better.

"Sugar, if you're going in there, I'm coming too."

He said nothing else, only turned back and entered the cave. He made a ball of Witch-fire to light the way. There were many twists and turns and for a while the ceiling became so low that they had crouch down to continue but there was only one way to go. Eventually, Surreal saw in front of them a dim light. Daemon saw it too and put out the witch-fire.

The cave ended there abruptly. To the right was a short wall dividing the path from a small room. There, sitting in the center on the ground, was a man, his head bowed, dusty hair falling in front of his face and around his shoulders. He wore ragged and dirty clothing. Around his wrists were manacles connected to chains that were bolted to two pyres that burned at either side of the prison, the source of light they'd seen. The flames were a disconcerting shade of blue, casting everything into shadows that shivered and jumped. The man raised his head slowly, his hair fell away from his face, his eyes opened. They were the darkest eyes Surreal had ever seen, a black that gleamed violet in the strange fire's light.

"I've come to free you," it was Daemon who spoke, his voice shaking.

The prisoner slowly cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. "Have you?" His voice was dark too, quiet and cold.

"Yes."

"Then come here." The prisoner held out his shackled hands.

Daemon stepped over the wall into the prison. Surreal grabbed at his arm to try and stop him but he shook her off and went to the other man, kneeling in front of him. "How do I do it?"

The prisoner grabbed both Daemons' hands, his fingers tightening painfully around Daemon's.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

"Yes," Daemon tried to pull away but the prisoner's grip was too strong.

"You know I will kill you first, followed by your friend, and then all the world?" As he spoke, he glanced up at Surreal and the terror brought on by that look stopped her breath and left her frozen.

"Yes," Daemon was saying, "oh yes. Kill me. And then everyone who hurt her."

Her. Janelle.

"Listen to me. Listen." His voice a hiss, his fingers tightening still more so that blood ran from where his nails punctured Daemon's skin. "Are you so certain she's dead? Because if there is even the smallest chance she is alive and I come upon her, I will kill her along with all the rest and there will be no one who can stop me."

"No. She is dead. She is."

"Is she? I will end this world in fury and blood. You're friends and your enemies I will treat the same. And I will smile as I do it. Is that what you want? Is that why you've come?" his voice rose and the pyres seemed to flare in response. "IS IT?"

"I just want it to be over." Daemon's body fell into itself, his shoulder's slumping, the morning's focus all gone at once, leaving him empty and hollow once more. The prisoner at last released his hold on Daemon's hands, looking again at Surreal.

"Come, take your friend away from here."

Surreal managed somehow to step into the cell, take Daemon by the arm and lead him back through the cave. He went with her meekly with no protest. She looked back once as they left. The prisoner had closed his eyes and bowed his head, the blood on his hands the only sign they'd been there at all.


	3. Chapter 3

The years went by. Janelle pulled Daemon from his madness, they were reunited in Kaeleer, she swept the land clean of the tainted blood and finally began healing. Of the time he'd spent wandering in the Twisted Kingdom, Daemon said little but it was clear that his memories of it were fractured and confused. For herself, Surreal tried to think about it as little as possible. She pushed away all thoughts of Terrielle and instead gave her attention to building a life in Kaeleer, making a home for herself and her Eyrien lover, Falonar.

Then one evening she stopped by Daemon and Jaenelle's house on her way through town. Jaenelle was still at the keep but Daemon persuaded Surreal to stay the night. They were eating dinner when he turned the topic away from trivial subjects.

"Surreal as long as you're here, lately there's been something I can't stop thinking about."

"Okay," she said cautiously.

"When I thought Jaenelle and Luciver were both dead and I had nothing else to live for, how is it I never tried to kill myself?"

She dropped her fork. It clattered onto the floor but she made no more to retrieve it. "You don't remember?" She heard the echo in her mind of Daemon pleading, "oh yes. Kill me."

"I did try to kill myself? I would've been so much more powerful than you. How did you stop me?"

"I didn't."

"Then wh-"

"Stop! Just stop!" The words came out a screech of a yell. And there it was. That which she'd tried so hard to forget, the fear she'd felt in those sun-dappled woods pouring around the edges of the place where she'd hidden it. And then the cave, and the prisoner and she felt like she was choking, on what she couldn't say.

"Surreal," he began.

"No," she said, cutting him off once again. "You should be grateful that you don't know." She stood up, appetite gone. "I have to go."

"Wait, Surreal." He stood too. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't sprung that on you. At dinner of all times. Forgive me?"

She smiled. "Of course." They said nothing more about it.

And that should've been the end of it.

But it wasn't.

That night Surreal had her first dream of it. It was not her first nightmare of the past but even her dreams of Briarwood didn't feel the way this did. It was a simple dream, one that repeated itself every night after. In it, Surreal stood at the entrance to the prison and he opened his eyes and looked at her, only the gaze was concentrated fully on her, seeming to peel back layers of flesh and organs to her very soul And then he spoke, his whispering saying, as he had in life but in the dream only to her, "I will end this world in fury and blood. And I will smile as I do it."

She woke from it with a soundless gasp, heart racing, body shaking. She began putting off sleeping. Days would go by with no rest until she collapsed in exhaustion, only to wake up hours later in a panic.

And then it began to bleed into her waking life, his eyes stares out of the faces of strangers she passed on the street, words he'd said she misheard into conversations, her life circling around trying not to think of it and failing horribly.


	4. Chapter 4

Several weeks later, she knocked on Saetan's door and entered slowly when she heard him say "come in" in his low voice.

He was surprised by her visit, she'd never come to see him in his office before, but not alarmed. No one had any idea what Surreal was going through. Her professions of choice had taught her well how to hide emotions and sleepless nights. But the façade was wearing thin and she could not keep it to herself any longer. She sat in a leather chair across from his desk.

"I need to ask you a question," she began abruptly, pre-empting any greeting for him.

"Alright," Saetan took off his glasses and steepled his fingers, giving her his full attention.

"Have you ever been afraid?" the words fell out, not calm and collected as she had planned but quick and nervous.

"Yes" Saetan responded without needing to pause to think.

"Of what?"

"Well, the most obvious of course is Jaenelle."

"How did you stop being afraid of her?"

"What are you talking about? Just this morning she nearly scared me to death" He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Surreal tried to respond in kind but could feel how forced it was. Saetan came around the desk and sat in the chair beside her. "I'm sensing that the erratic behavior of a much-loved daughter isn't the kind of fear you're talking about?"

Surreal shook her head.

"What's frightening you, Surreal?" There was nothing light-hearted about that question.

"I don't know," She whispered back, telling more of the truth than she intended to.

"Well then." Saetan didn't push or pry, only spoke gently. "Are you sure there is something to be afraid of?"

She blinked, shocked by this possibility that had never remotely occurred to her. Had she spent these last few weeks fearing someone who no longer existed? Why wouldn't he be gone, swept away in the Great Purge?

"Maybe you're right," she finally said slowly, "Maybe there isn't."

But there was only one way to be certain. And for that reason she found herself crossing the gate back to Terrielle, through the woods and into the cave once more.


	5. Chapter 5

It was unexpectedly easy to find the cave even after all the time that had passed. She had planned to be wondering for hours, marking the path behind her to avoid getting lost. But almost immediately she came upon that chilling silence and then it was only a matter of continuing that same direction. She kept telling herself that the growing unease was not definitive proof of anything and it was that thought that gave her the determination to keep walking, to enter the cave, to the follow the path to the glowing light of the prison at the end.

No time at all seemed to have gone by in the prison. His eyes, when he opened them, still a deep black that shone violet in the twin fires. He smiled when he saw her, as if he'd been expecting her for a long time.

She stepped away from the entrance to the room and threw up on the cave floor. Then, feeling slightly better, she went back to the prison's doorway, unsure of what to do next, her objective of seeing if he was alive having been met.

"If you've come to speak with me, it is customary to give me something to drink," he finally said, being first to break the silence. He made no mention of her being sick with fear at the sight of him but somehow made that seem like more a mockery than anything he might have said.

"Why?" she asked hesitantly. "Will that make you stronger?"

"No, it is only a courtesy. It has been many long years since I have had anything to drink. My throat is very dry." His soft voice did have the rasping sound of someone who has gone too long without water.

"What if I didn't come here to talk with you?"

"Then why have you come?" He opened his palms and spread his heads, as if to say "if you came here to see me, here I am."

"You didn't ask Daemon for a drink." She said, obstinately avoiding the question.

"Talking to me was not his purpose."

"How did he know about you? And why didn't you let him free you that day? And who are you? And how did you know Jaenelle wasn't dead?" The questions came pouring out, one after the other.

"How much better I could provide answers if I had a glass of wine," he interrupted,sounding almost wistfull.

Against her better judgment, Surreal called in a bottle of wine and a glass. She thought at least this way she could see how far his chains let him move. With this in mind, she placed the full glass on the stone ground on the other side of the ledge and pushed it about an arm's length away from him. He stretched out his hand, the chains making an unnerving rattling, scratching sound as they dragged across the floor. He could barely reach the glass. He took a long drink and closed his eyes, savoring the taste.

Opening his eyes again, he said, "Which of your questions would you like me to answer first?"

"You knew Jaenelle was alive." Not a question but her voice rose at the end as if it were.

"Yes."

"How?"

"My ability to view the world is almost limitless, though I can only interact with as much of it as you see here." He pulled the chain as far as it would go, his hand gesturing no more than two feet or so in any direction away from where he sat.

"You see everything that happens?"

"I see whatever I am watching. Sometimes too many important things happen at once and I must catch up hearing about it from watching someone else talking about it."

"If that's true," she stopped, gathering scattered thoughts, and began again, "If that's true then you knew I was coming here today."

"Yes."

"Any you knew Jaenelle was alive."

"You've said that already," he said with a bemused smile.

"If you knew for a fact she was alive, why didn't you tell Daemon that? Why did you only say, 'if she's alive'?"

All the time, he'd been drinking from the cup Surreal had given him. Now he pushed the empty back to her.

"More wine, if you'd be so kind."

It was good wine. She called in another glass, pouring one for both him and herself, hoping it would settle her nerves.

"I didn't want to interfere. It wasn't my place."

"But if he'd freed you, you would've killed everyone." She said, thinking that sounded like interfering in the biggest possible way.

"Yes. Same as I would were anyone to free me."

"Why?"

"To fulfill an oath I made."

She considered that. "Then why didn't you just let Daemon set you free?"

He paused to drink. "When I was first imprisoned, I might have let him to the one to do it. But since the ones who did this to me," he again held up his manacles wrists, "they have all died and even their blood line has been so diluted by time that my vengeance upon them would be almost meaningless. I long ago decided that it must be a man or woman who has been greatly wronged, who knows what they are doing, to make the world burn." It was the longest speech he'd yet made and his voice grew hoarse by the end of it. He slid the cup across the floor and she filled it a third time.

"Daemon knew what he was doing. And he'd been 'greatly wronged.'"

"No. He was a man driven mad by despair. It was not the world but his own grieve he sought to end."

"Still…"she trailed off. The fear had become a buzzing in the back of her mind, like a smell one grows accustomed to until they hardly notice it. "Were you put here so you wouldn't end the world?"

"No, this is the punishment given to me, sentenced to an eternity spent here able to watch time pass but do nothing else."

"What was the punishment for?"

"A terrible crime I committed." His voice grew heavy, full of the memory of it. Clearly he would say nothing more on the subject.

She realized suddenly how long she'd been there. She was hungry and her muscles ached and were tense from being held ready for anything for too long. "Just one more question."

"Alright," he said, not believing her. That resolved her to truly ask only one more.

"If you did such a terrible thing, something that deserved this prison, why didn't you go with the rest of the tainted blood?"

"Because," he said as if it were the most obvious of answers, "I am not blood."


	6. Chapter 6

In retrospect, her promise to herself to ask no more questions was a bad decision. She'd returned home more confused than before, though significantly less afraid.

But the whole day was so strange that it was difficult to think about it clearly. It was so far removed from the reality of her life- and from there she had to stop that train of thought before her mind provided her with a ridiculous play on her name to describe it.

"Surreal…Surreal…have you been listening to anything I've said?" Falonar's voice cut into her tangled thoughts. It had been two weeks since she'd visited the prison and she was finding it hard to pay attention to everyday conversation with it weighing so heavily on her mind.

"I'm sorry." She didn't deny it: she had no idea what he'd been talking about. "What were you saying?"

He dropped his fork, disgusted. The dinner table stretching between them seemed a metaphor for the impassable distance she'd lately felt in his presence. "Is this what it's come to? You're barely ever here, always traveling around-"

"You travel too. And I have been here." she interjected.

"Not really. When was the last time we actually talked about something? When was the last time you asked me how my day was? Or had dinner ready when I got home?"

"Ah, here it is," Surreal's anger was rising and she couldn't check it, "the real problem. You don't want me. You've always been embarrassed by me, by my past. You want a house wife." To cook and clean and sit waiting for a man to come home. He wanted a woman like that. The kind of woman Surreal would never be.

He stood up. "I'm going."

"Where?"

"Somewhere that doesn't feel like a battle field." And he slammed the door shut, getting the last word. And even though he came home the next day and apologies were exchanged and the argument smoothed over, the ground on which their relationship stood became only more irreparably fragile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Dear Reader,**

**First Thank you for sticking with me up till now. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Second, this section takes some pretty big liberties with the original book's plot. I hope you don't find that too weird or a betrayal to Anne Bishop's world or anything. This is my first story so it's all pretty much an experiment. Now, on to chapter 7! **

If anyone had known about the man in the cave and Surreal's re-encounter with him, they would not have been at all surprised to learn how quickly she found herself returning to see him again. Confused, maybe. Alarmed, definitely. But surprised? No.

She was drawn back to the cave by her need to understand who he was and what he'd done.

He gave her the same smile he had the first time but it seemed more genuine, more happy to see her, her arrival anticipated.

"You're back." He said

"Yes." She replied.

"Why?

"I'm hoping to teach myself how to be less afraid."

"Ahh. How scholarly of you. Will you be taking notes?"

"Right, so I can write a book: How Not to Be Scared of Cavemen."

"Wait now. I'm not a caveman. Just a man…who happens to be in a cave."

Surreal's laugh spilled out of her unexpectedly. "It would be a short book. Chapter one would be "Don't Find out About Cave Men" and that would be it. Men in caves I mean. My mistake."

He was smiling too and his whole face looked changed, his eyes more violet than pits of black. "And there will be an afterword that reads only "why did you even buy this book?"

She laughed again.

As they'd been speaking, Surreal had called in a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. But she'd accidently put his on the floor just out of his grasp. He stretched out his hand as far as the chain would allow but his fingertips couldn't quite reach.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Surreal picked up the glass and held it out to him. He stared at her hand holding the glass suspiciously, as if he expected some kind of trick. Then slowly he took it from her.

"Thank you," he said. The lightness in his voice was gone, replaced by something darker.

"You're welcome," she said, not sure how to get back to the easiness of the earlier conversation.

"Anyway," he said, pulling away from that awkwardness, "you needn't feel any inadequacy due to your fear. It is part of the prison that makes you feel that way, a warning to any who might pass by of the danger that lies within."

"But I felt it even after I got home, in Kaeleer."

"It was an incredibly well made prison, if I do say so myself."

"Yourself? You made this prison?"

"Well, I didn't know it was for me when I made it. Had I known, I would have added a few more loopholes."

"But how could you make it if you're not blood? Without craft?"

"I used something else."

"What?"

He hesitated.

"Is it a secret?"

"Yes. But that doesn't matter to me. It requires a long explanation."

"Won't you tell me?"

"Alright," she noticed he was easily convinced, "Do you see the symbols carved into the rock?"

She looked closer at the cave walls and saw there were hundreds of carvings. Mostly squares and circles and triangles with lines or other shapes within them.

"Yes." She said.

"They're called Marks. Each Mark has a different meaning and, if made correctly, a different...ability."

"Woah," Surreal said, fascinated. "Can anyone do it? Or is it just Landens? And why doesn't anyone know about this?"

"Yes, anyone can make a Mark in theory but it takes quite a long time and much focus to learn. It has all but been forgotten, lost to the turning of time."

"Will you show me how?"

"Unfortunately, these Marks," he pointed to several symbols engraved in the chains around his wrists, "they stop me from making any new Marks. Which is why there is really no need to fear me."

"How long will they last?"

"Forever. Those Marks on the walls are making the fear and also holding this prison in stasis so neither I can grow older nor can the walls crumble. They never will weaken or fade and cannot be unmade."

"Unless someone frees you."

"Yes. Unless that."

What you could possibly have done that would deserve this punishment?"

"A terrible thing. It was a long time ago. When blood were still new. So long ago." His eyes stared off into the distance, distracted by a past she couldn't see.

"You're angry enough over your imprisonment to swear to kill everyone and yet you admit you did something terrible?"

"Why do you think my vow to end the world was due to this prison sentence?"

"I just assumed. I mean, what could they have done to you after?"

The prisoner said nothing, still looking away.

"Ok, something I guess."

"Yes…something."

Surreal studied him intently while his eyes were averted. She didn't know what she was looking for. Something in his thinness, in the sharp angles of his collarbones sticking out from the remains of his shirt. Or in his long fingers that ended with ragged and torn fingernails. Something that would make who he was more clear.

But she couldn't find anything.

"I'm not scared of you anymore." She said, not because it was true but because she felt he wanted to hear it be said.

And he smiled at her, coming back to the present. "Thank you." As if she'd given him a compliment.

"I should go."

"Alright."

She vanished the wine and glasses and rose to her feet.

"Goodbye," she said, wondering if this was the last time.

"Goodbye," he said, and she thought he was probably wondering the same thing.


	8. Chapter 8

A few weeks later Surreal found a note from Falonar waiting for her at home saying he'd made reservations for dinner at her favorite restaurant. She was so touched by the gesture; it had been a long time since they'd spent an evening out together. She put extra effort into getting ready that night, putting on her favorite dress, plaiting her hair into an elaborate braid. She found the string of pearls Falonar had given her for last Winsol and looped them around her neck.

Preparations completed, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers softly along the pearls, thinking what a pleasant surprise the night would be.

But at dinner Falonar was quiet and more distant than ever. He answered her questions as shortly as possible.

"What should we have for dessert?" She asked as the waiter took their dinner plates.

"Surreal," Falonar began, "I don't think-"

"What? We always get dessert here. I'm thinking pie." Her voice sounded painfully bright even to her own ears.

"I can't do this anymore."

"What?" She looked up at him from the menu.

"You and I. This isn't working. We've both known it for a long time. I got an apartment. I'm moving out."

She stared up at him, blindsided. "Falonar, I know this relationship isn't perfect." She reached for his hand but he slid it away, "But remember how good it once was? We can get back there. We can work it out. How can we do that if you leave?"

"You don't understand, Surreal. It's time for us both to move on."

She saw everything clearly then with a flash of insight. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

"Don't be ridiculous." He snorted.

"Don't tell me how to be." Her temper rose.

"Calm down, Surreal."

"Oh no, Sugar. You brought me to my favorite restaurant to do this and you want me to be CALM" she slammed her fist down on the table, making patrons around them jump. She took a deep, shuddery breath and lowered her voice. "Who. Is. She."

"There is no one."

"Don't lie to me, Falonar. I always know. Is she Eyrien?"

"I'm telling you, there is no one."

"Ok, she's probably Eyrien. Is she a hearth witch?"

"Drop it, Surreal." His face was turning red with anger.

"Oh ho, she's definitely a hearth witch."

Falonar stood up. "I don't have to sit here and listen to this. I thought we could be civil about this." He called in a pile of money and dropped it on the table, far more than the bill could possibly have amounted to. "Get whatever you want." He stalked away.

"You know for a warrior, you certainly do a lot of RUNNING AWAY" she yelled after his retreating back. He didn't even bother turning around.

She signaled the waiter and he came to the table carefully.

"Yes, Lady Surreal."

"What's your best wine? No, don't answer that. Just bring it over. And don't open it. I'm taking it with me."

He brought her the wine, still acting as if she was going to explode with anger at any moment. And truly she felt like she might. She grabbed the bottle and pulled on her coat. She nodded to the money on the table. "That should cover it. Keep the change."

The waiter stared at the money, then at Surreal, then again at the money. The tip was going to be the biggest of his life. "T-thank you." He stammered.

But Surreal was already halfway out the door.

There was only one place she wanted to be. The one place no one would think to look for her.

She arrived at the prison cell quickly, fueled by sadness and anger.

The prisoner blinked up at her. "Surreal?"

"You didn't see that I was coming?" She sat down inside the tiny room, back pressed up against the ledge, her fancy dress fanning out across the ground.

"No. I was watching something else."

"So you don't know what happened?"

"Why? Are you alright?" he looked concerned.

She felt a wave of disappointment and realized she'd wanted to go somewhere where she wouldn't be alone but also be with someone who didn't need to be told about it.

"Falonar is leaving me." She mustered up a smile. "But he told me at a classy restaurant so I brought some really good wine." She showed him the bottle.

"I'm sorry, Surreal." He paid no attention to the wine.

"It doesn't matter." She kept her voice steady with careful practice.

"Yes, it does. You wouldn't be here if it didn't."

"It's just…" the words caught in her throat and she had to stop, "It's only that…I thought he loved me, you know? Men are always wanting me but I thought…we were together so long. We've been through so much…I thought…"she couldn't say what she meant. She herself wasn't sure. She felt tears gathering in her eyes and pushed them away angrily with the heels of her hands.

"He's hurt you," the prisoner's voice was so quiet it was almost impossible to hear him.

"Yes. I can't even tell anyone how much because if they find out they'll kill him. And he doesn't deserve that just for not wanting me anymore."

"He is a fool or a coward, not to see how lovely you are."

"You think I'm lovely?"

"Of course you are. You are incredibly beautiful and intelligent and loyal and brave. Don't let this one moment convince you otherwise."

There were too many tears, they ran down her face. Not because of the man she'd thought to spend the rest of her life with but because of this simple and softly spoken kindness.

"Surreal," he held out his hands, "would you come here?"

She remembered how he'd flinched away from her touch when she'd handed him the wine glass. She knew this offer was only for her but she needed it too much to let it go.

She crawled across the floor, ducked under the chain connecting his wrists and let herself be pulled into his arms. It was a gentle embrace. Her head fell against his chest, his hand rubbed her back in slow circles. She let herself cry then, like a child. At first it was for the lost intimacy of long held love. Then, for the loneliness of a future of going home to an empty house. Then, finally, for all the tragedies she'd seen, her mother's death, men she'd killed, Briarwood, Daemon's madness. All the things she'd never let herself cry over. When there were no tears left she at last fell silent, exhausted.

"Thank you," she whispered, not moving.

"You're welcome." She could hear his heart through his chest, strong and steady, and wondered about a prison made to last forever, holding a prisoner with heart forever still beating.

"I don't believe you committed a horrible crime," she said, her voice still a whispered.

She didn't hear his response. Her eyes were so heavy. She let them sink closed and her breathes became even and, despite everything, she fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

She woke up cold.

In the prison.

The prison.

The prisoner's arms still around her, holding her close to try to keep her warm. As if he would never let her go.

Horrified by this thought, Surreal broke away from him. She was on her feet backing towards the doorway in the space of a single breath.

"It's alright, Surreal," he was trying to comfort her still.

"I have to go." She was near the prison entryway now.

"Surreal, it was nothing. Surreal!" His voice followed her through the cave.

It was early morning outside, the sun just beginning to rise. When she got home she sat in front of the mirror, remembering how she'd gazed at her reflection the night before. Now, her dress was covered in dust and her hair in complete disarray, falling from the braid around her face.

She has just showered and put on comfortable clothes when the doorbell rang.

It was Daemon.

"You heard?" she asked as she opened the door. What else could prompt a visit?

"I did."

"Do you want a cup of coffee? I was about to make some."

He nodded and she led the way to the kitchen.

"How are you doing?" He said after the coffee was made.

"Fine" Not a total lie. All her tears yesterday had gotten the worst of the sadness out of her system. "It was a long time coming."

"I tried to come by last night but you weren't here."

"You knew last night? How could you find out so fast?"

"I have my sources. It would be unethical to reveal them." They shared smiled. "But really Surreal, I know you went to Terrielle."

"Oh, you know that too, huh?"

He nodded. "I know it was your third time crossing the gate in as many months. What's there for you anymore?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Terrielle is a dangerous place. I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to be. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. But you don't have to be alone all the time. We're your family, Surreal. That's what we're here for."

It was that sentence that made Surreal decide to break Jeanelle's rule about telling Daemon things he couldn't remember. Things his mind might not be ready to hear.

"Do you remember when you asked me why you never killed yourself?"

"Yes," he said.

"In the mountains in Terrielle there is a cave. And in the cave there's a man."

She saw the exact moment it came back to him. His eyes widened, his breath caught, his head sank into his hands. "The prisoner."

"Yes."

He looked up at her, his eyes flashed. "You went to see the prisoner?"

"I had to know if he was still alive."

"3 times, Surreal? You've gone to see him 3 times?"

"It's not what you think."

"He's dangerous, Surreal."

"No, he's not. He can't do anything."

"He's tricking you. The fact that you can't see that is proof of how dangerous he is."

"To what end? I would never free him, Daemon. That's not going to happen." She wondered if the prisoner was watching this conversation what he must be thinking of it.

"Are you telling me you've never once thought about it?"

She didn't mean to hesitate. But she did.

"You see?"

"Of the 2 of us, I am not the one who almost freed him."

"And if I had, it would have been a terrible mistake."

"But what was it that stopped you? Do you remember that? Because it wasn't me."

"One inexplicable good thing does not excuse the bad thing he did!"

"Which was what exactly?"

"You don't know?"

"He wouldn't tell me." She studied Daemon's face. "Hold on. You don't know either, do you?"

"I'm going to be thinking about what could've happened for a long time." He closed his eyes, visibly making himself relax. "Just promise me you won't go back there."

"You've killed hundreds of people. You've buried bodies in every territory. Why are you so willing to judge this person whose crime you don't even know?"

"I can't lose her again, Surreal." Daemon finally said. "It's been trice now she's almost died. How could I stand a third time?"

Surreal realized at last that this wasn't about the prisoner. Not completely.

"You aren't going to lose her. Not like this."

"Please. Just promise me."

"Ok." She'd never been able to say no to him. Not when he asked her like that. Not when he was looking at her like that. There had been a time when she'd thought it was love making her feel that way. But now she knew it a different kind of bond, made by time and need and grieve. "I won't go back. And you won't tell anyone, right? Just the two of us will know about it."

Daemon nodded. "Thank you." They walked together to her front door. "If you need anything…"

"I know." She held open the door for him. "I'm thinking about going to the house in Ebon Rih for a while."

"Good idea. Get away for a week or so." He kissed her cheek. "Goodbye."

She waved as he turned out of the gate and then went inside to begin packing. Yes, she thought, Ebon Rih would be a good change of scenery. She did need to spend some time away.

She'd been there about a week when she made the mistake of walking home alone with her arms full of groceries.

At first there were two of them, both warlord princes, one opal jeweled, the other red. The dark jewels were enough to make Surreal's feet slow, her senses sharpen. Though only two, they were Eyrian and their wings blocked off the rest of the narrow passage which she'd been walking down.

"Lady Surreal," one said. That he knew who she was made her even more unnerved. She shifted her groceries to one arm and inconspicuously called in a shielded knife.

"Do I know you?"

"No. But we're here for Falonar." The second one spoke. They were tall and muscular, both of them warriors.

"For Falonar?" She tried to keep her voice natural.

"He is a great warrior. He should've gone to serve a strong queen right away when he arrived here. And he would've if you hadn't ensnared him."

"Whoa, whoa. I didn't "ensnare" anyone, Sugar. And he and I aren't together anymore, if you hadn't heard. He can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants"

"Oh really? And what queen would want him now? All the courts fear you _family_" he spit the word out as if it tasted sour. "They won't do anything to piss them off."

She heard and sensed the approach of two more dark jeweled males coming towards the passage. Not friends of hers but there to help the Eyrians.

"What would you like me to do about it?" She asked to buy time while she sent out messages to Lucivar and Daemon. "I'm being ambushed. Send help." The thought spiraled out into the twilight but there was no immediate answer.

"You should pay for what you did." The first man was saying. Time was running out. The two men were closing in behind. No sign that help was on its way. She made a quick decision. She threw the knife in her hand at the second man and called in two more, letting her groceries fall and scatter across the ground. He had ducked the knife and now they were both coming at her, war blades in their hands. She dodged a strike from one and stabbed the other, succeeding in wounding him deeply in the stomach. But his blade caught her arm and the blood and pain of the cut made her drop that knife. In the meantime, the first man lammed the flat of his blade into her side, sending her sprawling. She rolled to her knees, ignoring the haze that came with broken ribs and slashed at his knees. He went down hard, howling and clutching his leg.

There was no time to congratulate herself for this victory. The other two were mere steps away and the other one she'd wounded was getting back up, holding his bleeding stomach with hand but preparing to attack.

She had to get away. She lurched to her feet and ran, her first thought being to find a more public place. But night had fallen and the streets were empty.

She headed for the Khaldharon Run, taking to the air the way Jaenelle had shown her, ruthlessly draining her Grey jewel. The run was meant for Eyrien after decades of preparation and Surreal knew it was stupid but there was some addled logic there amidst the haze of pain. Something about losing them in the pass or that they would lose interest in the mountains. But they were Eyrien and they delighted in the chase. Only one injured man turned back. That left two still coming.

As she came out on the Terrielle side her strength gave out and she crashed into the mountainside, gravel tearing into her skin. She slammed into a tree and momentarily the world went black. Only adrenaline and the knowledge that if she stopped they would surely kill her had her up on her feet, stumbling along again.

The pass had not been easy on the two either and for a little while her fall did make them lose her trail. But they found it soon enough.

That same skewed logic and a lack of time or options made her head for the cave. If there was fear to be felt she didn't notice it but she thought it was deterring them a little, though still they followed.

The prisoner knew what was happening. He was reaching for her when she got to the entrance. She pulled herself over the entryway and on her and knees she drug her tired body over to him.

She tried to speak but couldn't get a breath. They were nearly to the prison already.

"Surreal," he spoke still softly, "Surreal. Set me free."

"How?" she choked the single word out.

"Put out the fires."

She didn't question it. With the last of her grey jewel she used craft to blow out both the pyre's eerie blue flames. The tiny cell was lit now by the two balls of witch-fire made by the approaching princes.

The pyres collapsed in on themselves, becoming nothing but dust and the chains, too, disintegrated one link after another until all that remained were the iron cuffs around his wrists no longer connected to anything. He rose to his feet, his eyes all black. Surreal backed away, pulling herself to the side where a pyre had been.

The two warlords stared at him then attacked as one. With two fingers of one hand, the prisoner began drawing symbols in the air, his hand moving quickly. The Marks flared into existence, each shining for a moment before fading. With his other hand he pointed to the first warrior. He flew back, out of the prison and a whole section of the cave wall crumbled and fell on top of him.

The prisoner turned smoothly to the second attacker, still pointing. An unseen weapon tore through his shields, ripping into his flesh like a beasts' sharp claws from one shoulder horizontally across his chest.

The warrior fell to the ground bleeding heavily.

"Who are you?" he managed to grasp, the words coming out splattered with blood.

"I am the end of days," the prisoner picked up the warrior's blade from where it had fallen, "the future which you have wrought," he was standing over the warrior now, "but will never see come to pass." He brought the blade down in one quick motion and the warrior's witch-fire vanished with his last desperate breath,

The prison was pitch black and silent now. Surreal's body could take no more. She felt herself collapse into unconsciousness and thought this last thought:

"Mother night. What have I done?"


End file.
